


Gordon Knows Six Things

by DiamondWolf_YT



Category: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Identity Issues, Oneshot, Repetition, based off of a writing on my tumblr i did, basically an "its a game" au but, being the protag is scary, coomer bubby and benry are mentioned, i say angst with a happy ending but, its more ambiguous, so is joshua, warning for unreality and stuff like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24971194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamondWolf_YT/pseuds/DiamondWolf_YT
Summary: Gordon Freeman knows six things. He knows six things and holds onto five of them like a lifeline, refusing to let go. He knows these things and that's what matters most to him.AKA, being the protaganist in a video game sucks and absolutely gives him identity issues.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 134





	Gordon Knows Six Things

Gordon Freeman knows six things. He knows six things and holds onto five of them like a lifeline, refusing to let go. He knows these things and that’s what matters most to him.

One, his name is, obviously, Gordon Freeman.

Two, he is twenty seven years old.

Three, he is an MIT graduate. Theoretical physics, he thinks.

Four, he has a son. He has a son but what was his name? He couldn’t remember his name - he said Joshua, was it Joshua? Was that right? That wasn’t him speaking, no it couldn’t have been, but what was his name?

Five, he works at Black Mesa and has a test to conduct. No, no,  _ had  _ a test to conduct. 

And six, none of this was real, and he had no real control over his own body.

The thought made him feel sick. It made him want to scream, to pull at his hair until his head bleeds and pounds with pain, to cry until his throat is raw and his eyes are sore and he has no more tears to cry, to curl up on the ground and never get up. His life was a lie, but what  _ was  _ his life?

The minute he walked into Black Mesa the morning of the test it was suddenly like he had no control over himself. He tried speaking but he couldn’t, he tried walking but that didn’t work. The most he could manage was simple eye movements. He couldn’t even remember anything - what was Black Mesa? What was he supposed to do? Who are these people? Who was that scientist who he - he? Was that him? - tried reading the bulletin board for? Who was that guard that looked so heartbroken, so crestfallen for a moment, when it clicked that Gordon didn’t know him?

Gordon. His name was Gordon, he knew that. Who were these people?

He was twenty seven years old. He knew that. Was he the youngest here? It looked like it.

He has a son. A son. How many people know of his son? How many have children of their own? How many of them remember? Why doesn’t he remember?

Every time the game shuts off, it’s when he sleeps. He gets moments of quiet to himself, however painful it may be. The dark is a release now. It feels like the only thing he can control now, even if he can't really control it. He thinks he can move, but he never tries.

He doesn’t get sleep when the game shuts off.

Sometimes he tries to send pleading looks, a message that  _ I’m still here, I don’t know who you are, please help me- _

It never gets across.

He’s always exhausted now. He wants so badly to drop to the floor, dead or not it doesn’t matter to him, he just wants some rest. He wants to go home.

Does he have a home? Is that just a pre-programmed memory? Was any of this any more than just pre-programmed memories? Is that why he held onto what he knew? It was the only thing that connected him to the past. The only things he was allowed to remember.

It made him feel sick, that he was just some sort of pawn for someone to mess with, to play with until they’re bored. He felt weak. He hated how someone, one person, had so much control over him, over the people he’s traveled with, over their environment- everything.

When he loses his hand he can't find it in himself to care. The player cares, and okay, he’d be lying if he said most of the screams of pain were just from the player acting. No, he definitely screamed. It hurt. He could feel it, he could feel the pain, he clings to it, telling himself he’s real, that this isn’t all out of his control. But he doesn’t necessarily have it in himself to get worked up about it. He’s too tired. He spends most of his time reciting.

His name is Gordon Freeman. He’s twenty seven years old. He’s an MIT graduate. He has a son.

When Benry attacks them and tries to kill them, speaking nonsense that was so familiar but with an explanation as to why just out of his reach, Gordon wants to cry. The way Benry talks about  _ knowing him -  _ he wants so badly for it to be true, just to have something else to hold onto, to tell himself he’s more than just a player, he’s himself, but the way he’s being forced to react, to get angry..

It hurts.

He wants to cry. He really does. How different is he, now? Did he have any friends? Are these his friends? If he is acting differently, are they worried? The player may have missed the concerned glances from Tommy but he sure hasn’t. Did he know him? He must have. He had to have.

His name is Gordon Freeman. He’s twenty seven years old. He’s an MIT graduate. He has a son. He might have been friends with Tommy and Benry.

He knows seven things, and he holds onto them like a lifeline. They keep him grounded.

The seven things are all he thinks about now. All he recites. He’s losing himself, he slips up every once and awhile, he could feel it. He loses order, he stumbles over his words, he forgets to say things.

The realization makes him panic but he can do nothing about it except for reciting.

The party at the end of it all would have been fun. It  _ should  _ have been fun. It should have been a relief. The feeling of being in his own body again - the feeling of his limbs returning and the feeling of being able to truly speak for the first time in god knows how long - it was like a weight was lifted.

When the party was done and the group was left standing out in the empty parking lot, sun barely peeking out from above the horizon, he breaks.

He can't stop himself from falling to his knees, arms wrapped around himself like some sort of one person hug. He can't stop the heaving sobs that leave his throat, the tears that fall down his face or his hair that loosens itself from it’s tie. He hears the others but their words don’t register. He can move, he can cry, he’s crying he’s going to be fine-

Another sob, louder, and a concerned voice next to him.

Gordon Freeman knows eight things.

His name, his age, where he graduated and for what, that he has a son, where he works and what he had been meant to do, that none of this is real, that Tommy and Benry were possibly his friends, and that he finally has control back. He can move on his own now, talk on his own, all without being puppeteered by some otherworldly force.

He clings to the nearest person like a goddamn baby but he cant find it in himself to care. He doesn’t have to recite anymore, but he does a mental checklist anyway. Just to cling to it. He doesn’t know if he’ll lose control of his own body again. Who even knows if he has it back for good anyway?

“Mr. Freeman?”

Tommy. Tommy, that’s Tommy. He knows him. He- they were friends at one point, right?

Pushing himself back, he wipes at his eyes - taking note of a prosthetic to add to what he knows - and lets out a choked sob as he tries to stop himself from crying.

“Mr. Freeman, are- is- are you okay?” Tommy. That’s him speaking, he knows this, he can see the way his face moves with a frown, brows furrowed in concern.

“Tommy,” he croaks, curling in on himself. “You- you’re Tommy.”

“Of course I am, who- Mr. Freem- Gordon? What’s wrong?”

A hand on his arm. He feels the coolness of shadows as Dr. Coomer and Bubby move to stand beside him.

“I- that.. I didn’t... Tommy, what.. were we friends?”

Silence. Tommy’s shoulders droop and for a second Gordon panics, thinking he did something wrong.

“Do you.. not remember?”

“Of course I don’t remember! I don’t-” his voice cracks with another sob, “I don’t remember anything! Did we- were we friends? Was I- who else was I friends with, please- I-” he screws his eyes tight, hands digging into his hair. 

“Gordon…” He can hear him talk softly to him, but it’s lost, it’s lost to him and he cant hear it, he feels his throat tighten and his chest feels like there's weights on it, he’s too closed in but he needs to hold onto someone, he needs to talk but he can't, his tongue feels like it’s lead and he wants to scream, he wants to plead and beg for answers but he can't. He can only cry.

He doesn’t remember when he was brought home. He doesn’t remember breaking off the HEV suit and locking himself in the bathroom to change. He doesn’t remember being brought to the couch, his son in his arms, holding him close and tight while struggling to remember what his name was.

Tommy is sitting beside him to his left, quiet. Coomer sits to his right, wringing his hands together as he glances to Bubby, who’s leaning against the window.

“Gordon, you’re going to be okay.”

Someone said that. He can't tell who. He’s going to be okay but he doesn’t know who  _ he _ is. Can he be okay if he’s not even himself?

It’s cold in the apartment. Is it his? He doesn’t want to say it’s his. He doesn’t know who it belongs to.

He feels an arm drape around his shoulders, pulling him close to someone. It’s quiet, save for the occasional breath from him, much too loud and much too quick. 

Gordon knows a few things.

His name is Gordon Freeman. He’s twenty seven years old. He’s an MIT graduate for theoretical physics. He has a son. Tommy is his friend.

And maybe, just maybe, he might be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> based off of this post on my tumblr blog! idk how to link stuff properly so here u go [ https://adhd-gordonfreeman.tumblr.com/post/622202743633969154/ ]
> 
> i had this idea at the back of my head for some time now! i didnt know what to do with it until now-
> 
> please leave kudos if you liked! if you like my writing, check out my other stuff! :)
> 
> feel free to leave comments, too!! i love reading them and they make my day!!
> 
> also! one last thing, do come check me out on tumblr, im adhd-gordonfreeman !  
> thanks for reading!!!


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